Star Trek: A New Millennium
by Duality Crest
Summary: At the birth of the year 3000, something awful strikes the Federations very heart, and only the crew of the newest Enterprise have any hope of saving civilisation as they know it. This is a rewrite of another stoy of mine. Please R&R.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N**: Credit where credits due, I must thank Morphere for many of the ideas that I'm including in this story, even though the plot is mine, purely, his suggestions and advice has helped me in producing a much better piece than I would ever have been able to do, from a tech point at least, so thanks Morphere.

Also, ignores futures told by ENT. I found them very dry and dull, and also confusing, so for this fic, and possibly a series based off this fic, ENT never existed. (Also because when I made the original concept, ENT really didnt exist and I will not work around the inconsistancies that the show loves to introduce!)

* * *

"So when do you find out?" asked Covec Pla when Mogra opened her door to him, forgoing the usual greeting and, like any Klingon, going straight to he business at hand and not waiting for an invitation before he brushed past her as he entered Mogra's apartment.

"Please, come in," she mumbled as she let the door swing shut.

Joining her partner, who was now threatening the replicator, in the lounge area, she began picking up the rubbish that had collected on the centre table during the day.

"Damned thing doesn't know how to make a decent bottle of bloodwine," conceded Covec as he slammed his fists into the ultranium polymer that made the solid interfaces of many modern computers.

"_jot _Covec," yelled Mogra when she saw him about to destroy part of her home, again. "If you want a drink, there're some bottles in the back room, 2875."

"Don't tell me to calm down Mogra," he grumbled as he withdrew to find the wine. Taking this brief chance, she called some repair nanites to fix whatever damage he had caused.

"2875," could be heard from the other end of her home, "you call this a vintage? This is a joke compared to my stock back on the Homeworld. I've got bottles from 2626, a mere ten years before we joined the Federation. I might try re-labelling it as 2636, and sell it to some idiot Ferengi. If he asks, I'll just pull out my D'ktahg blade and threaten to remove his ears," As he walked back in the room, Mogra could see the delight such thoughts caused him by the evil grin he now wore around his mouth.

"You have no chance of selling anything to the Ferengi," commented Mogra.

"Why not?" he challenged.

"Because, six hundred years ago, some idiot became their ruler, and took all the fun out of profit for them. Its just some old wives tale. Ferengi, businessmen. Hah!" she barked as Covec once again began abusing the replicator, this time demanding some glasses.

"Covec! Where's your manners," she cried, "We drink from the bottle like true Klingons, not out of glasses like humans."

"Of course my love," he said just as he was about to kick another panel out. "But may I point out that a true Klingon is unlikely to hurriedly remove trash when she has an unexpected guest?" noticing the centre table was much cleaner now than when he entered. "Anyway, it's those damned humans you see, they come to my kitchen, demand my food, and then they have the nerve to beg me for cutlery. I guess I have just got used to such distasteful ways."

"Humans, they're just as funny as the Ferengi, and much more insidious," she began as she grabbed the bottle off Covec. "We fight them for centuries, even suffer a bloody war with them, and yet we still end up in their Federation. "

"Hah," barked Covec, "and look at us now. We're even celebrating the start of the year 3000, on their calendar."

"I bet you don't even know what year it is on the Homeworld?" challenged Mogra.

"And neither do you," he replied taking a brief swig out of the bottle. "Leaving the Defense Force was a mistake. You abandoned our people and now you submit to Starfleet.

"The Defense Force is a joke. What use was flying around Klingon space when Starfleet is there, and the nearest enemy is over half a galaxy away? With Starfleet, I've been in more battles than any Defense ship could ever hope to see. It would have been better if the DF was absorbed into Starfleet when we joined the Federation, but no. Our diplomats insisted on keeping our military, ad the Federation accepted. Almost four hundred years later, the only combat they've seen was the Romulan Disturbance when some radicals decided that they didn't want to be in the Federation anymore and started attacking us! Really, what was the point in attacking us?"

"It was a glorious battle," reminisced Covec, "a shame we were only children at the time."

"Hmm. Anyway, you're in Starfleet too! Why are you harassing me about my life?"

"Ah, I'm only in Starfleet because no DF ships needed a cook, or wanted a cook! So will you answer my question?"

"What question was that?"

"When do you find out?"

"Find out what?"

"If you got the ship!" a broad grin appeared on his face as he knew he wasn't supposed to know about this.

"How…Never mind," realising the futility in her question. "I was told that I will find out at the dawn of the new millennium, whatever that means."

"They're just being dramatic," he commented. "It's a big deal for them. They've never had a selection where none of the candidates were human. There's not even a Vulcan in the competition."

"How… " again shocked by his knowledge of the situation, but she still refrained from asking. "But why they need me on Earth now, I don't know. They could easily have told me from the comfort of my bridge of the Lukara."

"This whole years a big deal for them. In less than a thousand years, they've almost single-handed unified at least half the galaxy. There may be some trouble brewing in Borg territory, but we're on good terms with the Dominion. Hopefully, we'll be able to think of something to get them to join."

"This new millennium stuff is really starting to get on my nerves. They've changed the uniform to something similar to those back in the 'good ol' days', as the Admiralty say, and the new ship class, the Heritage class, it looks like those ships in the fleet museum."

"Those designs were abandoned centuries ago," observed Covec. "I think they made the slipstream drive unstable."

"They did, but now Starfleet's got it in its head that they want a retro look to celebrate the Federations Golden Youth. Kahless help us when they reach their 1000th birthday."

Their conversation was soon interrupted by a series of loud explosions outside. Curious to see what was happening, Covec stood to look out the large window that made one of Mogra's walls.

Still on the couch, Mogra said, "hmm, still half an hour left and some people are celebrating."

"Hehe, its not celebrations yet Mogra," chuckled Covec as he stood watching a Cardassian and a Pesachen who had just emerged from the tavern opposite, drunk, and were determined to make as much noise as possible, mainly by launching fireworks into empty refuse collectors.

Joining him by the window, Mogra said, "Hmm, As long as it doesn't blow up mine, let them." The raucous had apparently attracted a group of police drones. These androids, while lacking sentience, were smart enough to recognise trouble. Within minutes, the group had descended on the pair and in a faint red and blue glow, they were transported to the penal colony on one of Saturn's moons, where they would probably spend the rest of the night sobering up before facing whatever charges might be brought against them.

"I say they'll be out by morning," said Covec as he returned to his seat, picking up the half empty bottle of bloodwine as he passed.

"Probably," sighed Mogra. She would never allow such behaviour on her ship. They would probably spend two days worth of their off duty time in the brig.

"Do you know what you'll do if they turn you down," asked Covec as he swung the conversation back to Mogra's future.

"Probably stay on the Lukara until Starfleet either promotes me or transfers me," she admitted as she too returned to her seat.

"You're too good for that ship. When was the last time you was happy on it?"

"As long as I've got a loyal crew, a working ship, and fine battle every other day, I'm happy," she said, taking the bottle of Covec before he drunk it all.

"So what, two years ago then?" was his joking response.

"'For all the good of peace time, it brings all the bad of boredom' as the great man once said, may you burn in Gre'thor for all eternity father," said Mogra, remembering her fathers words after he retired from service in Starfleet shortly after the attempted Borg invasion twenty three years ago.

"Hear hear," said Covec as he tried to get the bottle off Mogra, who now smiled slyly as he failed.

After a few minutes sitting in almost perfect silence, the only sounds being the gentle whirr or the air cycler and the faint scuttling of the maintenance drones dotted around the room.

"Covec, why are you here tonight," she eventually asked, "You had been looking forward to returning to the Homeworld during the Humans holiday, so why are you back now?"

Growing anxious at the question, he quickly used his default reply, "so you challenge my honour now?"

"No, Covec. It's just, unlike you. Spending time on Earth when you're on leave."

"Hmm," he growled. "I have, a reason, for being here. One that is not for you to know just yet."

"Fine," she replied as she again stood up and walked to the window. "Computer, phase window and generate balcony," she said, effectively removing the window in front of her as a holographic, but none the less solid, balcony materialized below.

"Why do you still use the voice recog Mogra, the mental interfaces are much better?" asked Covec as he joined her on the balcony.

"I don't know Covec. Its something that I've never wanted to use since I saw it get hacked into by the Borg," the cold air making her breath freeze as she looked over the bar below and into the bay. In the distance she could just make out the Golden Gate Bridge, fully light up after its many repairs, and occasional rebuild, over the centuries.

"But we're in the heart of the Federation. The Borg are never going to reach us here?"

"You make me sound like a fool!" she yelled, drawing a glance from the passers by in the street below.

"No, I'm not," he quickly countered, smiling, "I'm making you sound like a coward."

"If we were on the Homeworld I would kill you for that," she barked, but pulling her knife from her belt regardless.

"But if you did that, you'll never be accepted to command the new ship. No matter how much the Federation tries to tolerate our peoples deadly antics, they will never truly accept them, least of all in the person they want to command one of the newest ships in the fleet."

"Damn you Covec," she said as she returned her blade to her waist. Up in the sky above, had just been launched, each one a countdown to midnight, each one a countdown to Mogra's fate.

"Fifteen seconds," he commented when an explosion tore through the sky, roughly shaped as the numeral fifteen in Federation Standard, quickly replaced by an explosion representing fourteen. "Good luck Mogra."

"Thanks," she replied counting down with the fireworks.

Four… three… two… one…

Cries of "Happy New Year" erupted all around them, form the tavern below, to the many people in the streets, and the countless people who, like Covec and Mogra, had gathered on balconies on the side of the building.

"Happy Terran New Year Mogra," he said, knowing that the qualifier would amuse her.

"You too Covec," she replied.

Moments later, a beeping could be heard coming from inside.

Without saying a word to each other, Mogra quietly entered and began the holographic link.

A small, balding, human male appeared in her lounge, dressed in the metallic black uniform that was soon to be replaced, with a series of pips and bars running across his collar that defined him as an admiral in rank. Even without the insignia, Mogra knew the man anyway. He had been her first captain when she transferred from the Defense Force, and had allowed her to forego the rigours of four years of academy training in favour of a short one-year course in Starfleet operations and command skills, before posting her as the helm officer of his ship.

"Admiral Prisa," she began as she approached the hologram.

"Captain Soreh," said the man as he extended a hand towards the Klingon. "I know you dislike the neural interface, so I'm contacting you by hologram."

"Thank you Admiral."

"Oh please, call me Francis," he said as he lowered himself into one of the chairs in the lounge, noting the nearly empty bottle of bloodwine on her table. "Ah, you have company tonight I see?"

"Yes I do sir."

"Aren't you going to invite him in?" eyeing his protégé suspiciously.

"I would rather not at the moment sir."

"I said call me Francis, and if Covec wants to join our conversation, he's more than welcome to," he said, standing up to go look for the other Klingon.

"Yes, Francis," she mumbled as he disappeared onto the balcony outside, only to reappear with Covec mere seconds later.

"Covec was quite persuasive when he appeared at my office a couple hours ago, desperate to find out why we had kept you on Earth tonight. But the decision had already been made, so I let him in on our secret," said Prisa as he returned to his seat, and Covec on the seat opposite him, but both still facing Mogra.

"Well, are you going to tell me the result, or will I have to get a Betazoid in here?" she said, slightly angry that Covec had known before she did.

"Oh my dear girl, Betazoids don't work on holograms," chuckled the Admiral.

"But they work well enough on worms like him," indicating Covec who had so far remained silent through all of this.

"True, true," considered Prisa. Adjusting his seat so he could look her in the eye, he began, "I'm sorry Mogra. You have not been selected to captain the Excelsior."

"Oh, I see. Obviously I am not worthy enough for such a vessel. What are you smiling for Covec?" she said angrily when she noticed him grinning on the other seat.

Acting quickly before she hurt Covec, Prisa continued, "are you aware of any other Heritage vessels being commissioned soon?"

"No, why?" she snarled at her mentor.

"Well, I would have thought the woman who was going to captain the Federations flagship would want to keep up to date on its progress."

"Excuse me," she said, slightly shocked and surprised by the statement.

"You got the Enterprise Mogra," yelled Covec as he jumped from his seat.

"Enterprise?" she replied, looking sceptically at Prisa.

"Yes, the Enterprise, NCC-1701-P, due to be commissioned tomorrow, well, this, morning at oh nine hundred hours. It wouldn't look good if her captain wasn't present now would it, which is why I'm ordering you to the Utopia Planetia shipyards, dock one, in time for the launch."

"Yes sir?" the surprise still registering heavily on her face.

"Oh, and please where your dress uniform. The _new_ dress uniform."

"Yes sir?"

"Oh, well. I guess I'd better be going. You've got an early start tomorrow Captain."

Coming out of her stupor somewhat, she bid the man good-bye and watched as his body vanished at the loss of the signal. Looking at Covec, who was still grinning like a Bolian, she said, "You'd better stop that or I might make you part of my crew!"

"What, I'm only smiling. A man can be happy his wife to be is getting a major posting!"

"Wife to be, what are you talking abo…." Her statement collapsed in her throat as he pulled a ring from his pocket.

"Will you Mogra?" he asked.

"You have been spending far too much time with humans, and I guess I have too."


	2. Chapter 2

Mogra couldn't help but be impressed by he scale of the ship that was docked in front of her shuttle. It was eight in the morning, and she and Covec had received nothing less than VIP treatment from the moment they arrived at the Terran spaceport to their arrival at the Utopia Planetia shipyards in Martian orbit. She still felt it looked like a relic from the museum around earth, but up close, _her _ship was the most beautiful thing she has ever seen. The slipstream generators gently graced the deflector dish and straddled the secondary hull until they were nothing more than a whisper near the aft hull plates, the twin warp nacelles arched majestically below the ship, a sight that made Mogra promise herself that they would be used for more than just emergencies, and swooping down from the rear of the saucer section was the temporal drive, the magnificent construct that allowed the chronitons from the temporal core to be of some use.

Sweeping around the nose of her ship, she could easily make out the extensive array of transdimensional weaponry that was soon to be concealed beneath a convincingly real holographic canopy.

_U.S.S. ENTERPRISE NCC-1701-P_ was all she could read off the hull plating mere meters below the module she knew to be the bridge, and these were the only marks visible as the hull plates were perfectly uniform. No one metal sheet could be picked out from the others, fused into layers many meters thick and making up the ships impressive armour. Passing a window, she could see a great many technicians working in one of the few lit cabins on the great ship.

"Ancient it may look Mogra," whispered Covec from the window next to her, "Its still a fine ship."

"I know," she said as she retreated back inside the shuttles spacious interior. "I hope my honour is worthy of her strength."

"Hmph," said Covec as he continued to watch the as the shuttle circled the vessel, waiting for clearance to dock with the construction facility. Turning round to face his fiancé, he asked, "Why did you want me to come Mogra?"

"Why shouldn't I have let you come?" she asked, being careful not to let her annoyance crease the new red dress uniform she currently wore.

"I would have been back on the Homeworld by now," he moaned, but grinning anyway, "preparing the targs for our wedding day!"

"Hmph," it was Mogra's turn to smile derisively today, little did Covec know that his plans were about to be turned upside down within minutes.

The minutes passed in silence as the shuttle continued to circle before a voice over the radio could be heard granting permission to the pilot to dock.

"Finally," muttered Covec as he and Mogra picked up their few belongings and marched out of the now open airlock, "they should never leave the Captain of their favourite new toy waiting."

"Or its Chief Mess Officer," commented Mogra as they entered the catwalk that led the way to the Enterprises main birth, and the location where the ship is to be officially commissioned.

"Excuse me," said Covec as he slowed to a halt and the colour drained from his forehead ridges.

"As your captain, I never intend to repeat myself," was all she said as she walked past him, a malevolent grin glued to her face.

"You're an evil woman Mogra," he said as he began walking again, but staying several paces behind her,

After many minutes walking, they reached the reception area near the many levelled airlock, whose transparent skin could be seen extending all the way to the nearest docking port on the enterprise.

"Captain!" yelled a voice from the other side of the vast room.

"Admiral Prisa, it is an honour to see you again" she said as she marched other to the old man, leaving Covec by the entrance they had just entered through. Giving the short man a hearty part on the shoulder that visibly tore a piece of his golden tunic, she commented, "In person I hope this time."

"Indeed," sighed the man as he released a gang of nanites on the tear, quickly fixing it without any mark that a tear had ever been present. Their work done, the little machines silently deactivated themselves and fell to the floor, where they could only be assumed to have been absorbed by the same surface that keeps the floors clean regardless of how many beings walk upon its face. "Would you like to meet the crew first, or should we leave that for after."

"I think it may be best left for after. That way I can meet everyone at once, even the advocate, assuming that it, like the rest of the ship I to be brought online at he ceremony."

"Yes it is. At the moment, only life support is currently running. We don't want those vacuum energy modules to become exhausted now do we?"

"They're called zero point modules, not vacuum energy modules. Starfleet abandoned that reference years ago," she said, turning to face her mentor after looking at some new arrivals.

"We also abandoned that uniform design, and that ship style _centuries_ ago, yet here both are," he replied, a smile spread on his cherub like face.

Narrowing her eyes slightly, Mogra simply said, "There's hardly anyone here, so how long until we begin?"

"About fifteen minutes but most of them will either beam in, or will project from a neural interface in about fourteen."

"Hmph."

"You know it wouldn't hurt to smile every now and then when you're out in front."

"Hmph."

"Fine," teased Prisa as he walked other to the central podium to sit down. Nodding to Covec, they too began to approach the stand to take their designated seats. Covec's seat, as it turned out was in the front row of the audience, and neither Mogra nor Prisa could keep a straight face as they watched the Klingon chef search among the eighteen remaining seats on the stage before he finally realised that he had not been given a seat.

Snarling, he began searching among the audience for a seat that bore his name, and finally coming to rest once he had located it a mere ten minutes later.

"Not the brightest star in the sky is he Mogra?" asked the admiral from the seat next to Mogra's.

"Now where would be the fun in that?" she asked mockingly, hearing a quiet clattering noise as her sheathed, and officially permitted, ceremonial blade knocked against the chairs metallic frame as it hung from her waist.

Minutes later, the lights that illuminated the giant vessel outside went out, removing it from view and the air inside buzzed and hummed as people from all over the Federation appeared in the room as one. Getting up a minute later, Admiral Prisa began the ceremony.

"Greeting, one and all. Today is the first day of the year 3000. While many of the races represented here celebrated their fourth millennium a long time ago, and others are yet to have that joy, today it is the turn of humanity.

"Throughout the centuries since the first few races joined forces in defence of a common foe," jokingly indicating the Romulan officer Mogra recognised as the captain of the Excelsior, "we have grew and prospered through co-operation, and through understanding. Today, many races we once considered enemies, Klingons, Romulans, Cardassians, even the dreaded Ganarians, are part of the Federation. We have each put aside our differences, and joined hands in friendship to work towards a greater future for all.

"And throughout our collective history, there has always been one ship that has led the way. It may not always have been the flagship, or even a successful ship," hinting at ship four enterprises ago that blew up rather spectacularly on its launch due to a miscalibrated energy module, "but there is one name that has always been with us.

"And today we are here to honour the birth of the next ship in that fateful line, and to honour her captain who will help this very ship achieve the potential, and more, that those of its predecessors.

"She is the first Klingon to captain the vessel, and is in fact the first non-human, so it is only fitting that she be introduced by a human," the poor joke solicited a few chuckles from some, but the Vulcans present stayed as stoically unamused as ever. Turning to the window behind him, Prisa continued, "I present to you, the USS Enterprise," he said as the whole dock was suddenly plunged into light, illuminating the vessel and eliciting a few gasps from the more emotional, or light sensitive being present.

Turning to Mogra, the admiral continued his speech, "and her captain, Captain Mogra Soreh." Pulling her out of the chair he finished with, "who will now issue the command to bring the vessel online."

As she approached the podium, she saw the large keypad, into which she typed in her command code as instructed earlier, and sent the command to power up her ship.

Turning to face the giant bird, and to a hailstorm of applause ringing in her ears, she watched as the floodlights died down, and the light blue of the warp nacelles began to shine, quickly followed by the twinkling of the lights behind all the thousand of windows facing them. She stood proud as her ships temporal drive became flooded with a pale purple luminescence and the slipstream generators that lined her hull began to glow with a deep green colour that throbbed as if it were alive, as if it were the pulse of the creature she now called home.


End file.
